168
by Porkchop Sandwiches
Summary: Elena never thought she'd have the opportunity to paint Damon's toenails blue, but she never thought she'd challenge a vampire to a contest based on sleep deprivation. Delena fluff.
1. 25 hours

**A/N: This takes place in the second season after Katharine told Damon she didn't love him, and Stefan and Elena are broken up, which is stated again in the chapter. This only matches up with the outside world of the show somewhat, but it's not important for this story. It is very much _fluff. _This first chapter is very heavy on summary, but things needed to be explained. The following chapters will be much more scene-driven. Please read and review!**

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_25 hours _

Elena knew it was a stupid idea to challenge a vampire to anything, well, maybe anything besides who can stay out in the sun the longest without jewelry, which taken out of context was silly and in context was impossible, on the vampire side at least. But other than ring-less tanning, Elena was sanely aware that vampires had the upper hand on pretty much everything else…unless there was some vervain eating contest. That didn't sound too appealing, but she'd win.

She scraped her nails across her scalp. Softly tugging a clump of her hair, she tried to almost physically pull out another headache coming on that she wasn't sure was from the Red Bull caffeine-crash or not sleeping for twenty-five hours. Because Elena Gilbert, former level-headed high school junior, was then Elena, the girl who bet her vampire ex-boyfriend's vampire brother she could stay awake longer than he could. And this decision was made knowing he was undead and nocturnal and well, Damon. But, Bonnie had magically sealed her in the house for the duration of the first three weeks of summer break because there was some new vampire drama going on she was being kept in the dark about, and Bonnie didn't want Elena doing anything irrational after her breakup with Stefan, which was for real this time. There was supposed to be some round-the-clock Elena-watch bull crap, but people were busy with the aforementioned vampire drama and Jenna was in the Outer Banks of North Carolina with Alaric, which left Damon sitting on her windowsill with a duffel bag and a smile that could have had all the bikinis in a three block radius dropping on the spot.

At first she was sullen, because sullen or distant or pouty was an option when she'd only been missing the outside of her house for half a day. He had rolled his eyes when she wouldn't talk to him. And she kept her eyes on her diary, doodling in the margins until he sped out in that whoosh-less Superman way he always did. It kind of had her thinking of Damon in blue tights, and maybe kind of not hating the image.

Two days later she was a little lonely. After four days she'd run out of frozen pizza. On the sixth day she'd succumbed to _How I Met Your Mother _reruns, and she wished she had that compulsion thing to make Damon come back. But she didn't need to be a vampire to have him knocking, yes knocking, on her front door. This time he was carrying a plastic bag of Wendy's, and she let him inside with a neutral expression. Ten minutes later she was laughing, and she tried to convince herself she was only having such a good time because she was people-starved. They ate standing up in the kitchen because her butt didn't want to be one with the couch anymore, and they were still in there long after the last French fry and the keep-away game with a ketchup packet. At around midnight Damon said it was Elena's bedtime, mockingly calling her a little girl or something, and she could remember crossing her arms over her tank top, eyes narrowing, and him raising his eyebrows like she'd already made the bet.

When she did make the bet, he didn't seem very interested, reminding her that he was like, you know, a vampire. But she reminded him that he still slept, she'd seen him sleepy and cranky before. She also may have made the game a little more intriguing when she mentioned the only way to make sure neither of them fell asleep was for Damon to be there 24/7, and she may have tightened her crossed arms closer to her chest, leaning forward on the counter, because cleavage-leverage seemed fair when she was facing weeks of summer vacation inside.

He agreed, asking her the prize/punishment for the winner and the loser. She told him she really hadn't thought that far ahead, and he accused her of bluffing, walking past the dishwasher like he was leaving. Her brain was scrambling for something, anything, and she blurted out something along the lines that if she won, he had to wear a Superman costume. He turned at the armrest of the couch, calling it kinky, coming up with his response much quicker, saying if he won, he wanted to see her naked. She called him a perv. He thought it over for a second, shrugged, and nodded. Then he said if it was too much of a risk, because after all, he was going to win, that she should just call it off. There was something that snapped inside of her and she shook his hand, telling him it would start the next day at nine o'clock.

Damon was there five minutes early, carrying a large supply of blood bags, some groceries, and his duffel bag from before. Elena went about her day as usual with Damon making phone calls to Bonnie, Stephan, and Caroline to tell them he was going to be busy for a while. That night they spent the time talking, making fun of Stephan, and listening to loud music. At nine am the next day, Elena had a Red Bull. She had another an hour later. It was ten in the morning, twenty-five hours in, and she was ashamed she was already Red Bull-dependent, and she had a killer headache.

She let the hair clasped in her hand fall back down, and opened the freezer for a few ice cubes. Wanting to wake up, she pressed the ice to her forehead, over her eyelids, and across her neck and collarbone. Just as her fingers were going numb she saw Damon leaning against the sink.

"You should tell me when you do that again," he said.

She wasn't sure if it was the pain under her skull, but she walked up to him, and flicked the excess water in his face, smirking when he looked upset.

The he smiled. "I see you get more mature when you're sleepy." When Elena didn't respond, he splayed out his hand to show two blue pills on his palm. "I heard you muttering something about a headache." He opened her fist and tilted them in her hand before walking away.

"Thanks, Damon," she said. She was surprised he would do something so considerate, until she studied the pills and saw two tiny letters on each tablet: PM. "Tylenol PM? Damon!"

He was back at her elbow. "What? I would have waited for you to wake up to see you naked."

"Damon!" He was gone before she could say anything else, and she dropped the pills into the trash. "This week is going to suck," she whispered to herself.

"Like you'll last a week," Damon yelled from another room in the house.

Yep, this week was definitely going to suck.

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**A/N: Again, please review! This is my first Vampire Diaries fanfic. **


	2. 50 hours

**A/N: Thank you sooo much to everyone who reviewed my story. To all of you sketchy hoodlums who alerted but didn't review, I'm making a very weird face at you...interpret as you will. Please read AND review :D**

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_50 Hours_

Crisis number one: there was no more Red Bull. Crisis number two: the weather decided to be a butt munch and rain for the past four hours straight. Crisis número tres: Elena hated thunderstorms…and finding herself thinking in Spanish, because both were pretty frightening.

It was eleven in the morning, day three, and Elena was rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet in the kitchen, waiting for the coffee maker. She wasn't a big coffee person, but it was better than passing out.

A crash of lighting rattled the kitchen window, which had the sky colored a thick, heavy grey hue, and she jumped. The rain was still coming down hard, the splattering sound against the roof making almost more noise than the intermediate thunder and lightning. But it was the storm, not the rain, that was making her feel unsettled. She wasn't sure if it was from the lack of sleep, but she hadn't felt this scared of a thunderstorm since she was a little kid. The lights flickered off and on.

"Boo," Damon whispered.

He said it right in her ear and, considering she was still teetering on her feet, she nearly fell over completely. Her heart was seizing so much she didn't even have the state of mind to even get pissed at him. But, it may have had something to do with the fact that the usually well-dressed leather jacket-guy was in a pair of black sweats and a black wife-beater, with his hair all messed up.

"Someone's a little on edge this morning."

"I'm kind of afraid of thunderstorms." She didn't mean to be so honest, but again, she blamed the lack of sleep.

"Oh." He looked like he was going to say something else when the coffee maker dinged. He smiled, seeming embarrassed as he walked past her and opened one of the cupboards. "You know I used to be afraid of thunderstorms too."

She watched him set two mugs down on the counter. "I don't believe you."

He looked back at her with a very serious look on his face. "Well, I don't believe you've ever been struck by lightning." He turned back, pouring coffee.

"_You've _been struck by lightning?"

"Elena, I've lived for over 160 years, crazier things have happened." He spooned some sugar in one of the cups, probably hers, because she was guessing he took his black.

"So?" she asked, leaning forward even though he couldn't see her. "How did it happen?"

"Well, it's kind of a sore spot." He hesitated, still not facing her.

She could see his shoulders shake slightly, like he was…crying? "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to." His shoulders started to practically convulse, so she stepped closer, putting a reassuring hand on his arm. "Damon?"

He turned around slowly, but once he did, she realized he was laughing. When her face looked blanker than Stephan's, he started laughing harder. "Get it, _sore_…spot."

"Damon, you've lost it." She may have been angrier if he wasn't practically giggling in such an uncharacteristically giddy way.

"It's like the lightning made me _sore_, like a _sore _spot," he said, chuckling.

She rubbed his arm like she was dealing with a troubled child. "Damon, I think you should go to sleep."

His face straightened out instantly. "Elena, I think you like feeling me up." He was looking right at her hand, which was right on his bare bicep.

She pulled back. "You were kidding the whole time? You're such a jerk."

She spun on her heels and stomped out of the kitchen. It wasn't until she was halfway through the living room, wondering why it took her so long to catch up with his sarcasm, that he materialized in front of her, making her clutch her heart in again. "Damn it, stop doing that!"

"I'm sorry. Calm down," he said. And now one of _his_ hands was on _her_ arm, the other offering her a hot cup of coffee. "If you're this upset about the storm, why don't you have coffee with me on the couch, and we can watch a movie together."

Taking the coffee from him, she wondered why her adrenaline wasn't going down. "Really?"

"Yeah, we can watch a movie, nothing too scary, and cuddle." He had both hands on her upper arms. "Then I can rub your back and sing you a lullaby."

She scowled, pretty hardcore scowled, but it only lasted a few seconds before she was laughing. Nothing was really that funny, he was actually being an ass, but she couldn't stop.

Damon squinted, kind of inspecting her face. "I was being serious." However, he didn't look serious when he started laughing again.

They both laughed, cracking up until they felt lightheaded. And they both ended up on the couch, Elena getting her breath back while taking small sips of her coffee.

"That was easy," Damon said. He downed his coffee like a shot of liquor.

"What was easy?"

"I got you to forget about the storm," he said. The rain still hadn't let up, and the lights sputtered again, making Elena scoot nearer to Damon. He slung an arm over her shoulder. "And now we're cuddling."

"Call it whatever you want, but I'm…" she said, trying to move away.

Before she could even get to the next cushion, he hugged her closer and smacked a kiss on her cheek, big and showy like he was an aunt who wore animal prints and pinched dimples. Her back bolted upright, her eyes expanding bigger than his ego.

"You're welcome," he said. When she didn't say anything, he dove back in and kissed her, softer this time by the crease of her mouth. He snickered when her complexion paled; pupils expanding like she was high. "I just gave you a second wind."

She wasn't sure if it was because she was so tired, because her adrenaline was _not_ bouncing through her system, not at all, but she didn't think yelling at him was worth it. Instead, she slid out of his grasp and settled into the far corner of the couch. Tucking a section of hair behind her ear, she tried to pretend she didn't enjoy his lips on her skin, and she used the remote to turn the T.V. on with a thumb that _wasn't_ jittery, at all.

Flipping through channels with her eyes on the screen, she said, "Damon, if you do that again, I will tie you up and stab you." She glanced to her right to see him drinking from her coffee mug.

"You can tie me up whenever you like."

She wouldn't admit it to anyone, but she smiled…a little.


	3. 82 hours

A/N: Again, big thanks to everyone reviewing! And if you have alerted, it would be kind of cool if you reviewed too, but it's just a thought. Read on :)

_82 hours _

"I'll give you two hundred bucks," Damon said. He was sitting on Elena's bedroom floor, wearing the same shirt/sweats combo from the day before.

"No way, that's worth way more than two hundred," she said. Her serious-Elena face was getting hard to pull off when she hadn't been able to sleep for the past eighty-two hours. So, she tried for haughtily amused, resting on the edge of her bed, wearing short plaid pajama shorts and a long-sleeved thermal. "I'd reconsider for three hundred and fifty."

He looked appalled or disgusted, swigging down a stout glass of blood. "You should go to jail for that kind of extortion, you manipulative, little…little liar."

"Liar?" She shot up, balling her fist, trying not to hurl when he squirted some more of the blood bag in his cup. It was dinner time after all, so she really couldn't blame him, for the blood thing at least. "_You_ have done nothing but lie for the past _five_ hours!"

Damon banged his glass down on the hardwood floor just short of shattering it. "Well, maybe _this _isn't meant to take _five_ god-awful hours!" He threw a handful of crumpled fives on her bed. "Wasn't it your idea to start this game?"

"You're not doing it right!" She kicked a few of the bills that didn't reach her comforter, missing horribly with her bare feet.

"Elena, I've done this a million times," he said, smirking.

"Well, I quit."

Stooping over her bed, she used her arm to wipe off a line of cardboard cards. She walked directly across the Monopoly board and into her bathroom, making the door thump behind her.

"You lose then, Monopoly loser!" Damon yelled.

Elena scoffed, locking the door. She thought of saying something back, but somewhere a tiny voice in her head said she may have been taking this board game a smidge too seriously. She squeezed her forehead, because her head was hurting again. Pulling up the sleeves of her shirt, she leaned into the sink to get some cold water on her face. She blinked a few times in the mirror, noticing dark marks under her eyes and a new paleness to her skin. She still had no intention of giving up. If Damon won, he would probably talk about it…forever, which was a long time considering he was a vampire and she was seventeen.

"Elena?" His voice sounded like he was close to the door.

She didn't want to talk to him. Instead, she put her hair up in a ponytail, used her head to swish it back and forth like a tail before taking out the elastic and letting her hair fall back on her shoulders. Strumming her fingers on the lip of the sink, she opened drawers at random, finding a plastic friendship bracelet from Carolina she'd gotten in middle school and an old bottle of sparkly, dark blue nail polish she'd forgotten about. She picked up the nail polish, holding it up against the light above the sink, staring at the disco-like glitter.

"Are you asleep?" Damon whispered.

"No!" She set the bottle of nail polish on the counter.

"How do _I_ know you're not asleep?"

"Because I'm talking to you," she said. She wondered when these kinds of conversations became normal, and she guessed it was sometime around hour 76, during their thumb-wrestle for the last orange popsicle when Damon started arguing about whether a thumb was just a thumb or a finger too. He was answered with her middle finger after he used his vamp-strength to win that last thing of orange deliciousness.

"Hey, Elena."

"Yeah?"

"We should play hide-and-seek."

She waited a second for the oh so witty sarcastic end to that statement, but there wasn't any. "Are you serious?"

"Of course."

Elena felt like normal, mostly-rested Damon would have made that line sound cheeky, but he said it like he genuinely wanted to like hide in a closet, holding his breath, hoping his feet weren't showing. Considering her few options, Elena was kind of okay with the idea.

She opened the door to have his nose inches away from hers, his hand on the wall with his back hunched more like a yawning cat than the bad boy slouch he was probably attempting. He brought his free hand up slowly, reaching for Elena, barely touching her bottom lip with the appendage that they still hadn't decided was a finger or a thumb.

"In thirty seconds, come find me," he said. And before she could say no supernatural running, he was gone.

She rubbed her mouth with the back of her hand because he must have found that quivering, ticklish spot. It had nothing to do with chemistry or hormones or anything.

"Cavewoman-Elena, people in this century count aloud when they're the seeker." His voice was distant, echoing in several directions, which gave her no clue to where he was.

"One, two, three, four, five, six…." She continued, taking a step forward with each number.

"I'm not hearing any Mississippis!"

She yawned, biting her teeth down hard before counting the way he wanted her to. "One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi…." Walking out of to the hall, she could see Damon had turned the light back on for her, and the thought of him playing fair made her pause between the ninth and tenth Mississippi. She started counting again, poking her head in Jeremy's room, a hall bathroom, and then she walked down stairs.

Once she checked the coat closet by the front door, she was done counting. She crept across the living room, edging by the game controls in front of the T.V. from their Super Smash Brothers tournament between hour 63 and 65. There was a plate with peanut butter cookie crumbs on the coffee table from the premade dough she put in the oven at hour 75. She wondered if she should have checked Jenna's room until she saw Damon standing behind the island in the kitchen with a new glass of blood.

"You're slow," he said, raising his cup. "And I got thirsty."

His bed-head, messy hair-thing was getting worse, which was weird since he hadn't been to bed at all, and Elena knew that because she'd been watching him for more than 82 hours straight. But there weren't any dark spots under _his_ eyes, and it kind of frustrated her that he had a drink stronger than Red Bull and coffee.

She was even eyeing the red liquid. What could it really hurt? "Can I have some of that?" she asked, standing next to him.

He grinned, probably thinking she was kidding. But when her expression didn't change, he looked at her closer, staring at her with compulsion-like seriousness.

"What?" she said, reaching for her necklace on extinct, just to make sure it was still there. "I shared some of my coffee with you. It could help me stay awake."

"Elena, the only thing this would help you do is spend a good part of an hour vomiting. And while that would keep you awake, I'm not sure if that's the kind of help you want."

"Yeah, I guess I'll wait until day six for the vomiting," she said, smiling to herself.

"Elena Gilbert," he said with a look of mock surprise on his face. "_You_ actually look like you're having a good time. Are you?"

He was playing up that I'm-standing-really-close-to-you-almost-like-I'm-going-to-kiss-you-but-definitely-trying-to-look-sexy-while-I-hover-over-you act, and out of the forty or so times he'd tried it, it was the first time she may have not been upset if the hovering became more than hovering. She extended her arm to flatten some of his hair sticking up, and she may have never seen him look so serious, because she realized the way her body was turned to him, it was like she was asking him to kiss her. And things seemed to be heading in that direction, with his face leaning in closer and all, until he was suddenly sitting on the kitchen floor behind the island with his cup at his feet.

"What are you…?" she asked, but he held his forefinger up to his mouth, pointing out of the kitchen. She would have been even more confused if the front door didn't open, and Jeremy was there with a book bag.

"Hey, Elena." He nodded to her, looking almost as tired as she was, which made her wonder how bad things in the outside world were getting. "I'm just here for some clothes. I'm staying at…Stefan's."

"Ok," Elena said. She was slightly entertained that Jeremy looked so unconformable when he said Stephan's name. Not to mention, Damon decided to look at her at that exact moment, and as Jeremy headed upstairs she stuck her tongue out at Damon, kind of stating there was no hidden angst or lingering thoughts. Smirking, he tickled her calf, making her squirm. When he reached the inside of her knee, she was giggling. She was so preoccupied trying to shoo Damon away, she didn't hear Jeremy until he was by the kitchen table.

"Uh, Elena, are you ok?" His eyes were narrowed.

Damon slid his hand down her leg, and it made her twitch even more than the tickling. "Yeah," she said. Damon appeared to agree, looking very proud of that body spasm. "Yeah, someone just texted me a really funny joke."

"Oh, well I'm glad you haven't gone crazy here all by yourself. I know people were supposed to come over more, but it's just gotten…a little out of hand," he said. He was carelessly readjusting his suitcase strap over his shoulder. "But it's nothing we can't get through."

Damon mouthed Jeremy's words, bobbing his head back and forth, and it took some self-control for Elena not to laugh. "That's good to hear."

"Yeah, um, Bonnie actually asked me if it would be okay if she could come by some time."

Elena chuckled uncomfortably. "Why doesn't she just ask me herself?"

"She thought you'd be still, still kind of pissed about her locking you up and throwing away the key," he said with a small smile.

"Well," she said, looking back to Damon. He shook his head. "Tell her I'm not mad, but I'm enjoying the peace and quiet. And we can catch up maybe next week or the next, and don't be afraid to text."

"Cool," he said.

He started walking closer to the island, which Elena didn't like at all, because she didn't want to have to explain why Damon was sitting on their kitchen floor or why he wasn't mentioned in her whole peace-and-quiet spiel _or _get into any of the implications of Damon being there with her.

"What are you doing?" she asked, barely containing her casual tone.

"Um, just getting a flashlight," he said.

"Oh." She turned around, opened the drawer behind her, and handed him the flashlight.

"Thanks?" he said. And the way his eyes shrank bank with his lips gathering let Elena know he was on to her.

"Sorry, I'm so used to being alone," she said. Damon was giving her a hurt look, and Elena blamed the sleep deprivation when she gave his chest a friendly nudge with her knee. It was also the criminal that kept her from hating it when his hand was back on her leg and he kissed her calf. She shuddered. "I guess I'm a little antsy."

"It's cool," Jeremy said. He took his vibrating phone out of his pocket. Just from the way he read the front, she could tell it was from Stephan or Bonnie. "I got to go."

"Bye, Jer," she said.

"See you, Elena." He was gone within a second, which made Elena _really_ think it was Stephan or Bonnie.

"Damon," she said, in a bit of a warning tone. He was still caressing her leg with his fingertips skimming her thigh. "You can get off the floor now."

He grinned. "I am fine right here."

He kissed her knee, and she didn't shake him off for a few minutes or so.


	4. 102 hours

**A/N: Whoa, all of you who reviewed are amazing! Your reviews really made me smile :) Kind of a warning for this chapter, it's kind of crack fic-like, but I mean, they have been awake now for almost five days. Anyway, continue!**

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_102 hours_

Reaching the 100 hour mark was incredible really...or at least it was in the sense that Elena was still making moderate sense, like she could remember all twenty-six letters of the alphabet and that she had ten toes. The actual 100 hour mark wasn't too incredible in itself because Damon was watching some show about classic muscle cars, and eating a large bowl of Cap'n Crunch. She was waking herself up with a sliced lemon under her nose, because the citrus scent made her happy. If she'd had a normal eight hours or any hours of shuteye, the moment would have been absolutely absurd, that is with Damon slouched on the couch with a mouthful of cereal, looking like a hung-over college kid, and with her nostrils wet with lemon juice, and with the bright noon sunshine outside. There was also that slight feeling of disappointment that Damon had found something else besides her to entertain himself with. But she didn't mean for that to sound dirty or weird or hold weighty innuendos that almost had her inhaling the entire piece of fruit.

She _did_ cough, choke a little, and it surprisingly had Damon at her side by the already tainted kitchen island. He looked worried, holding her back like he had during that surprise trip to Georgia, and she said she was fine. When he wasn't convinced, she somehow talked him into doing a puzzle on the kitchen table. There didn't seem to be any logical connection to blocked airways and puzzles, but he was sitting next to her and she liked it. He picked one of three golden retrievers playing with a soccer ball over the tabby cat curled in an armchair. They hadn't even gotten the edges sorted out before she started yawning. Once they were working on the paws, he yawned, a small one she hardly noticed because he turned his face away. But, by the fourth yawn, she felt a little triumphant.

"Plague-spreader," he said. He did it again, grumbling, which was hot…mildly hot.

Elena shook her head, placing a golden, fluffy-looking piece on the table to finish the ear of the chubby puppy on the left. The ridiculously green grass made her wish she could go outside and actually experience the perks of summer vacation. It also made her wrist itch, like she could actually feel the blades of AstroTurf. Because it definitely had to be AstroTurf, she decided, focusing on the puzzle.

She blinked, and blinked, and blinked again. It was still there. Right in front of her on the puzzle were the two of them on a picnic. She was wearing a blue bikini, lying stomach-first on a red and white striped tablecloth. Damon had a pair of sunglasses on, blue jeans, and nothing else. To their right were three giant puppies playing soccer…or maybe Damon and her were supposed to be in the background. Right, because dinosaur-sized dogs would just be crazy.

Although probably not as crazy as watching the images move. First the ball was gnawed, slobbered on, rolled back and forth between the freakishly clean, cute, and cuddly animals. Then she could see she was laughing in the background. The picture seamed to focus like the zoom of a camera and there was sweat on her shoulders and Damon's hands. Damon was…no. She concentrated more, and she still saw Damon rubbing her shoulders. His face was close to her ear, sunglasses brushing the base of her scalp in a way that had the real her shivering. He was working on a knot in her neck when cardboard-Elena changed positions, and calling it a position seemed appropriate when, no, no, no, nothing was appropriate about that…and in front of those innocent puppies.

This was too much, so she forced herself to look away. The curtains of the kitchen window were open and the sun blinded her back to reality. It was weirdly quiet. She checked to her right to see Damon still working on the puzzle. He seemed to have gotten bored, because he was stacking the remaining sky pieces on top of each other. Her wrists started burning again. Before she had another hallucination, she stood up.

"I'm going to the bathroom."

"Gross," he said with another yawn, not even looking up from his pile.

She could barely remember making it to her bathroom, only that she was a little dizzy when walking upstairs, and being dizzy at two in the afternoon had her thinking of a hangover again. Washing her face made it better. So did breathing slower, and not thinking of picnic back-massages with enormous four-legged soccer players in the background. Her elbow almost knocked over the bottle of nail polish on the counter. She moved it closer to the faucet, thinking if she wanted to paint her nails…or maybe Damon's.

This thought process may have lasted longer if the background noise didn't change. She wasn't sure what it was immediately, but with the door open she realized it was Damon…and he was singing. And by singing he was kind of yelling in a musical-like way. She eased out of the room to the hall to hear him better.

"Sittin' by the roadside on a summer's day, Chattin' with my messmates, passing time away, Lying in the shadow, underneath the trees, Goodness, how delicious, eating goober peas!" Damon…well, he was doing something with his voice. "Peas! Peas! Peas! Peas! Eating goober peas! Goodness, how delicious."

She considered she was hearing things until she actually saw his mouth moving, muttering the last line as he finished the puzzle. It wasn't until she was back at the kitchen table that she could think of anything to say. "What are you singing?"

His head jerked up from the puzzle, expression looking as if he wasn't able to hear her walk in the room, which didn't seem possible, unless his vamp-ears were being affected. "It was…just something we used to sing during the war."

She was smiling; delighted he was unraveling a bit. "Which one?"

"Civil War," he said. As if fixing their equilibrium, he frowned. "What's so funny?"

She leaned against the chair across from him. "You're getting tired."

"Am not," he said, standing.

"Fine." She didn't want to start one of those stupid am not, are too arguments, and being the belittling one of the two of them was nice, refreshing. "Whatever you say."

She decided to get another lemon, and she could actually hear his footsteps when he walked up behind her. He _was_ getting sleepy. She turned around before she reached the refrigerator, and the action of flipping her body to him reminded her of chest muscles and dark shades. He kept gliding towards her until her back met the handle of the refrigerator.

"I could stay awake for another week," he said, practically breathing on her.

This time she ignored his disheveled hair and went for his shoulder, setting her hand down halfway on his wife-beater with the other half on his collarbone. There was no Jeremy there to distract them, and even in her state of mind, which was hazy and full of him, she thought it was funny that so much had happened in the kitchen. She tilted her face to his ear like she'd seen him do on their puzzle. "A whole week?"

"Yeah," he said. He was holding her waist.

"Then I want you to do something for me," she whispered. She caressed the length of his shirt, slowly moving back up. Then she pushed him, catching him off guard enough to move him a few inches. "Race you to the stairs."

He took the bait, turning around, and her suspicions were correct. He wasn't using his vamp-speed anymore, but running regularly. She jogged behind him, losing only by a fraction of a second.

He was even somewhat out of breath. "You cheated," he said.

"Did not," she said, grinning. But the spiny, dizzy sensation was coming back, and whether she liked it or not she was sitting on the bottom step. She put her head between her knees, hoping the stairs would stop dancing around like they were auditioning for _Fantasia._

"Faker," he said.

Elena could hear him bend down even before his hand was on the back of her neck. And he was sort of rubbing/patting in a way that was probably supposed to make her feel better. She thought of her hallucination, and slowly sat up straight. "Damon, do you like picnics?"

"They're…alright, I guess," he said. He was looking at her like she was coming up with some secret diabolical plan. "Why?"

She moved her hair from her neck, scratching at a spot she hoped wasn't a trigger into psycho-land. Psycho would have been her chosen word to describe herself if she'd known how she was going to feel at the beginning of all of this, when she was just bored and slightly insulted, and the whole Damon-flirting thing was just a minor tick in her day. She tried to decide if being sleepy was the only reason she was thinking about kissing him, and for some reason she thought it wasn't.

"When I can finally leave the house, would it be weird if I asked you to go…on a picnic-lunch with me?" She chuckled.

His face was dead serious. "Yes, it would be."

"Right," Elena said. Her stoic expression was back. She held onto the railing so she could stand. Trying to walk past him, she was stopped when he held onto her forearm.

"I was kidding," he said, staring in her eyes to make sure she knew he was telling the truth.

"I know."

He smirked. "Oh really? Because you looked like I'd just told you I killed your puppy or something."

Killed her puppy? Why was everything reminding her of that stupid puzzle? And why was she so hyper-aware of the shape of his mouth?

"Elena?"

She wasn't moving at first, and then when she was it was only her head, and closer to him. Closing her eyes, she placed a small peck on his lips. Opening her eyes, she leaned back with a smug smile. "You know what we should do?" she whispered.

He didn't say anything.

"Laundry," she said. She turned and walked up the stairs, happy to feel a touch more awake. When she got her laundry hamper, she found him still waiting.

"You play dirty," he said. He took the heavy bag of clothes from her. "It's annoying."

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**A/N: By the way, Damon's song is real, and is a song from the Confederates in the Civil War. Please review :)**


	5. 138 hours

**A/N: I want to give a big thank you to everyone for their reviews! This is the second to last chapter, so the next one will be the last. Just to make it clear, I do know that people can't go without sleep for this long :P Also, WARNING: this chapter is a little spicier than the previous ones, so beware. **

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_138 hours_

It wasn't Elena's intention, but when she decided to do that laundry she'd been putting off at three in the afternoon, she was suddenly in control of everything they did. And she kind of realized this when Damon stayed with her to sit on the floor and stare at the two loads of swirling fabric in the front-open washing machine and dryer. There was no doubt in her mind once he started following her around the house, peeling an orange with her in the kitchen, watching twelve straight hours of _America's Next Top Model_ in the living room while they shared two bags of lightly buttered popcorn, and helped fold armful after armful of warm clothes on her bed. It made the craving for sleep, sticking to the inside of her eyeballs less painful, that is having him glued to her side and being mostly compliant, not sullen or grouchy or anything.

At eight the next evening, they found a hidden stash of Godiva chocolate truffles under Jenna's bed and they had a few of them…or like eight each. This turned into a sugar-rush game of Chutes and Ladders, Clue, and Scattergories. Monopoly was strictly outlawed, but Scattergories wasn't very successful either, because both of them were horrible at it, and thinking of capital names was hard to do when Elena could barely remember what her street was called. Board games were quickly crossed out of the list of possible activities, along with the T.V. they were almost nauseous thinking about, and puzzles. Anything that required speed was out of the question because Elena didn't really want to walk, let alone run. So, they tried to think of something else to do, standing in the hall because they were directly under the air vent.

"Do you know how to crochet?"she asked.

He stared at her.

"Yeah, stupid question," she said. "What about a word search?"

He rolled his eyes. "I don't think so."

"Paper, rock, scissors?"

"Not unless wining gets your top off." His smirk made her think he'd been asleep sooner than 138 hours ago, but she knew that wasn't true.

To his left was her opened bathroom door, and from her angle she could see a blue, shiny bottle that gave her an idea. She wasn't sure if this was the best, wisest idea she'd ever had, but it was three in the morning and she wanted to paint Damon's toenails blue more than anything else in the world, even if it meant showing off some skin.

"Damon?"

He had closed his eyes, bracing his head against the wall behind him with his adam's apple raised, probably enjoying the breeze from the A/C. "Hmm?"

"I'll take my shirt off."

His eyes practically popped open, head lowering so it was level with hers. "Excuse me?"

"I said I would take my shirt off," she said. Her voice was indifferent, like she was telling him it was supposed to rain later. "But, you have to do something for me first."

He made an exaggerated wince. "We're not racing to the stairs again are we?"

"No," she said. She hesitated, considering if she was taking this a step too far. But she knew her feet were about four steps in front of her brain, because they'd gotten away from her way back at his sneak kiss on the couch. "I get to paint your toenails first." She stepped by him into the open door and showed him the lacquer.

He took it from her, furrowing his eyebrows. "Fine, but I want some specific rules, _cheater_."

"The bra stays on," she said, ignoring his insult.

"What color?" he asked.

"I think it's called Disco Navy." She tried to read the small print on the bottom of the bottle.

"No, Elena, the bra."

"Oh," she said. And she couldn't believe she felt a slight blush on her skin. Feeling very ridiculous, she peeked under her tank top. She felt even more ridiculous when she saw she was wearing her 'fun' bra. "Dark purple."

"Silk or cotton?"

"I think it's a cotton, something I can't pronounce blend," she said.

"Back or front clasp?"

"Back." Her eyebrows were then furrowed, because she was honestly confused with his fascination with the particulars of lingerie. Wasn't seeing her one quarter-ish naked enough?

"Lace?" He was doing that whole talking out of the side of mouth thing, looking devilishly interested in her lingerie.

"There's a little in the front center, and some on the lining of the back." The line came out way too casually, which woke her up from how strange this was getting. But, her thinking face was not underappreciated.

"I really couldn't care less what it looks like. I just wanted an image while you're…painting or whatever," he said. He walked into the bathroom backwards until she motioned for him to sit, and he did with no complaint. "Be gentle, it's my first time."

She opened the top drawer for nail polish remover, a few cotton balls, and a wooden nail file before kneeling and bracing his left foot on her thigh. His nails were a little jagged; he was a guy after all. And she started filing his pinky toe pretty fast because she didn't want him getting _too _antsy.

He looked a bit worried. "Seriously, be gentle with that thing."

His concern didn't make sense to her in the slightest until she realized it was made out of one of the two things that could really hurt him: wood. "Okay Damon, I'll be careful not to stake you while I'm working on your hangnails."

He made an expression of mock-amusement with his mouth partly open, and it actually made Elena laugh for real, which seemed to please him. It wasn't long until his nails were fairly even and rounded out. She twisted the top off the polish, and picked the same pinky toe to apply the first coat.

She was on the other foot when he asked. "Why are you doing this?"

"It's a way to kill time," she said. A drop spilled on the knuckle of his big toe, and she cleaned it with a wet cotton ball.

"And it sparkles!" he said, obliviously being sarcastic.

But there's was this spark of realization in her eyes and she grinned manically.

"No, don't," he said, though there was a tiny smile in the corner of his mouth. "These digits will be nowhere near the sun to sparkle in."

"Sure thing, Edward." She was smirking now, and he didn't look amused at all.

She finished the second layer, setting the bottle aside to wait for the polish to dry. Her knees were beginning to get latticed patterns pressed into them from the rug, so she eased down on her butt. She twisted her neck to the side, making it pop, and Damon was looking at her expectantly.

"Why do you help me stay awake?"

"I don't know," she said. But she did, and it kind of depressed her that the impression of her mouth on his, no matter how short it was, hadn't got that across to him. Or the promise of a flashing, which was almost halfway giving up, because didn't her side of the bet boil down to skin? "Why didn't you ignore me or lock me in my room or something?"

"I don't know." His human, very nonthreatening and very charming, teeth were showing. He was sitting with his legs partly open, his upper-half supported by his hands that were slightly behind him. And it was all so inviting.

Her hands crisscrossed at the bottom of her tank top, and she gathered the material in each fist before lifting it up. It crept above her ribs, above the bra, above her collarbone, but then it got stuck. Ordinarily she would have laughed it off, especially in such a delusional state, but the cloth over face was only disorienting. Thankfully she was able to tug it off, and once it _was_ off she threw the stupid thing behind her. That wasn't a good idea…at all, because the sudden motion made the interior of her bathroom look like a pale, painted twister, and she had to grab the carpet with both hands for balance.

Damon appeared concerned, sleepy, and amused. "Elena, are you stripping or passing out?"

It reminded her she'd just thrown off an article of clothing like a pole dancer, not to mention she was currently on all fours, looking straight at him. She chose not to be embarrassed. Because she could definitely do that…she was pretty sure.

"Both," she said.

She moved her head a little to get the hair off her face. Not really caring much for consequences or logic or thinking she started crawling towards him. She fit fine between his feet with her palms flat against the tile, brushing his outer thighs, and she didn't stop until her knee was about an inch, centimeter, somewhere in the neighborhood, close to where the V of his sweatpants came together. His empty mouth swallowed…hard. And she smiled, not sexy, but a soft one, because she felt like she needed to reassure him of what she really did want to do. Because aside from craziness and creeping on her bathroom room floor at three in the morning, she felt like coming together is something that her and Damon needed, should, were supposed to way before there was sleep deprivation involved.

She kissed him, feeling his mouth open, and if they weren't close enough, they definitely were once he was sitting up straight and her bra was getting slightly squished into his shirt. He was pulling her even closer, arms clenched around her. Her hands went to the back of his head to play with the hair she'd wanted to play with for five or so days. His fingers lingered heavily on the clasp of her bra.

She pulled her head back, and her warning look may have been more effective if she didn't feel like she was in a stupor of tingles.

But, he gave her an apologetic smirk. "Just enjoying the lace."

He kissed her again, palms caressing down her lower back to the dip above the elastic of her Soffe shorts. She slipped her hand under the strap of his wife-beater, her other hand going under the bottom of his shirt with her fingers finding contours of muscles. Then he leaned away to pull it off. She couldn't stop herself from imagining him in a pair of shades when he kissed the corner of her mouth. He swept his lips over her cheek, down her chin, and her neck.

Twitching, she sharply brought her shoulder up to her cheek as if on instinct. "Don't," she said. She sounded scared, not angry, and it probably got Damon's attention better than if she'd been pissed. There was this little panicky thing going off in her head that she could feel in her gut. Her arms were trembling.

"Hey," he said. He was holding her arms, his mouth a safe distance away from her. "Elena, are you okay?"

She nodded, because she slightly knew this hysteria stirring in her stomach wasn't necessary. Taking a long breath, she nodded again. "It's just the whole…vampire/neck thing."

He raised an eyebrow. "Wasn't there this Stefan guy before me?"

It was something how he could flip emotions on and off, because she was smiling. "Yeah, my neck was kind of off-limits, my wrists too."

"Oh," he said, though he still looked a little confused. "I can promise you I wasn't feeling for a vessel to pop or anything, not even a sip." His hands were on her waist, thumbs making circles on her back.

"Okay," she said softly. "I was just freaking out for no reason."

"Well," he said. And if someone could turn on smoldering, it would be Damon, which he seemed to be doing. "Are there any other places off-limit that I should know about?"

"For tonight, anything that's clothed," she said. "Later, nothing." She kissed him.

"I really, really want to win this thing already."

She kissed him again, and even in her woozy state, she wanted to win just as bad. His toenails were already blue; they'd go great with the tights.

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**A/N: Please review! **


	6. 168 hours

**A/N: This is kind of an author's note and warning in one, because I'm going to be honest and say the ending your about to read may not be the most popular one, but it's one I envisioned from the start of writing this. I want to say again how much I appreciated your reviews! Please leave me one more gift for the end of this story :)**

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_168 hours_

Elena could only think of one thing and one thing only, and that was sleep. It was a hunger that her whole body was complaining for. Her legs felt too rigid, her arms too closely connected to her shoulders that were sore and prickly-feeling, her neck not stable enough, more like a bobble head toy. And none of this was being helped when she was only six or so feet away from her bed, which was looking almost as fluffed and majestic as the cloud on the new Katy Perry album.

"Do you think this is really working?" she asked Damon. She rubbed her eye with the side of her hand.

"I don't know, am I still awake?" Damon blinked.

They were standing in Elena's bedroom. They were standing because Damon thought it would help them from falling asleep. They were in Elena's bedroom because they were too lazy to move very far from their touching/make-out session in her bathroom. Neither of them were exactly sure how long that had lasted, other than the blur of lips and hands, and when they did leave the illuminated square of a room it was slightly brighter outside. It took them way too long to find a clock, but once they did, they saw in lime green letters that they were 37 minutes away from being awake an entire week. That's when Damon suggested they stand up, both of them still shirtless.

"I think so," she said.

"What time is it?"

She turned her head to read the digital face. "8:49."

He grumbled something, it sounding kind of a like a growl. Smoothing the palms of his hand up the underside of his chin, he sighed.

"I thought you said you could stay up for another week," she said.

"I said that when I thought you'd be asleep in the next day, two tops, and naked within the next three," he said. His yawn moved his entire head back, the craziness of his hair making him look like a sleepy lion.

Lions made Elena daydream about golden fur and soft things, and she had to flash her hand in front of her eyes to make sure she was only daydreaming and not doing that kind of closed eyelid dreaming that she'd been missing…a lot. She yawned, too gone to appreciate the irony of Damon starting the chain effect this time. Trying to focus on something that would jolt her even a little, she looked to her window for some sun. But the clear, bright morning only reminded her of how gritty her eyes were feeling.

"Damon."

"Yeah," he said. His gaze was following hers around the room, probably too bored to do anything else.

She shook her head, making her spine feel like Jell-o and a rock at the same time. "I don't remember."

He chuckled, but slower than he normally would have. "Me neither."

She crossed her arms, because her ribs were like wobbly things underneath her skin, and she was surprised to not feel the material of her tank top. Her eyes dropped. "I'm not wearing a shirt!"

"You look better without one," he said. He started walking towards her, staggering almost as much as an eyeliner-less Jack Sparrow. When he was right in front her, he tried to touch her shoulder, but ended up swatting air. He snickered. "Oops."

"I forgive you," she said, very serious.

Damon squinted, looking to the ceiling as if searching for something. "I think this has gone on long enough."

"What has?"

"What?" he said.

"I said what has," she said. At least she thought she did.

Damon scratched his forehead. "Right, this has gone on way too long."

Suddenly Elena could understand what he was telling her. "Are you forfeiting?"

"No!" Damon said. The force of raising his voice rocked his body forward like a violent seesaw into  
Elena.

Her feet weren't ready for this at all as she began to bend backwards at his weight until he pulled her back up. Once her toes were on the hardwood floor again, she only felt slightly balanced, because a good deal of his weight was slouched against her. Her face was stuck against his upper chest, and she could have sworn he smelled like strawberry ice cream and suntan lotion. And it reminded her of the outdoor summer she still wasn't experiencing.

"What if we both forfeited together?" she whispered. She was close enough to his ear for whispering.

"You mean we both lose?"

She shook her head into his collarbone. "No, we both win."

He was silent for nearly a minute. "Okay."

"Okay," she whispered.

Before she could pull away, they were shuffling backwards. Then she felt her down comforter on her calves. Finally she was completely horizontal on her bed. Damon was next to her, reaching for pillows. He handed her one before he squished one under his own head. Elena was on her back. Damon was on his side.

He thrummed his fingers along her stomach. "So, what does this both winning thing mean?"

She couldn't believe he would want to talk at a time like this. But, she tried to stay conscious. "We both have to keep our side of the bet."

"At the same time?"

"If you want," she said. She was imagining the feel of spandex against her naked body. "I have a whole nother week on house arrest."

"A whole week?" he said softly.

She smiled. "A whole week."

He kissed her. "Go to sleep."

"You have to close your eyes first," she said, barely keeping hers open.

"Fine," he said. He clutched her side to scoot her against himself. Closing his eyes, he said, "Goodnight."

She watched him a little before moving closer and kissing him. With her fingertip she caressed the shape of an S on his bare chest, and kissed him again. He didn't respond, so she laid back down. Snuggling into the comforter that felt much more amazing than she'd remembered, she closed her eyes, the insides of the lids feeling like warm liquid in her sockets. Feeling herself swirl into a rabbit hole-like dream, she opened them again.

"The clock," she mumbled. On her bedside table, it said 9:02, and she sighed. They made a week.

Before closing her eyes for the final time, she thought she saw Damon smirk. But, thinking he was dreaming, she didn't pay attention, instead slipping into a thick, slow breathing sleep. She didn't even feel him smooth her hair from her cheek, or slowly kiss each eyelid.

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**A/N: Again, thank you for reading. Now...review :)**


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